Death of a Romantic
by Emerald Cranberry Juice
Summary: Sometimes life doesn't go the way you plan. Slash. Rated T for language.


AN: I don't own Merlin or any of the characters.

"Are you sure he'll be there?" Merlin asked for what seemed like the millionth time. He stumbled a bit, catching himself before he completely face-planted into the side walk. Christ knows that he'd look like a damn fool if he showed up at the Rising Sun with a bloody nose.

"Trust me, mate, he'll be there," Gwaine assured from ahead. Even though he out-drank Merlin by around ten shots of rum, Gwaine still maintained his signature strut—one arm looped around Elena's shoulders, the other wrapped around Percival's waist with his hand tucked in his jean pocket. Percy, in turn, had his hand resting on the top of the swell of Gwaine's arse. It really was a nice arse.

Had Merlin not known Gwaine and the fact that Gwaine is… well, Gwaine, he would've jumped on him like a rabbit. But because he knew Gwaine since primary and saw him in all of his acne-clad glory before he became the sex god he is now, he wasn't quite as taken with Gwaine's "swag" as others were. Like Percival. Percival was a nice lad.

But it didn't mean that he couldn't stare at Gwaine. Or his arse. Which really is a nice arse.

"Everything will work, Merlin." Gwen smiled from next to him.

"Or it'll all go to hell, and you'll end up alone at a club," Gwaine called. Percy hit his arm. "Or you'll get your bloody Prince Charming, Arthur-fucking-Pendragon, and you'll live happily whoop-de-fucking-doo ever after."

Merlin rolled his eyes along with the others' laughter, but something in his gut sank and it wasn't the rum talking. The rum was just a mere precaution; a bit of liquid courage for insurance. It was good, ole fashion insecurity, the green-eyed bastard. It was the inner monologue of _how could he ever like me? _and _It could never happen _or _Guys like Arthur don't go for guys like me _that made him worry and fret. But isn't that the true Achilles heel of all? The fear of being unworthy or not good enough? But love… love should conquer all of that, all of those insecurities.

They continued to walk down the empty street on their way to downtown Camelot, where all of the pubs and clubs were located. A car or two passed by, but the drivers didn't stop to look at the mismatched hodge podge of students, of friends, walking down the street. The chilling October wind rustled the trees overhead that lined the street, sending a cascade of leaves down to earth. It lapped around them, chilling the tips of Merlin's ears. But they didn't let it distract them, booze warming and working its way through their bodies.

He half-listened to Gwen's babble next to him, instead dreaming of how the interaction would pan out. He imagined himself working his way through the club, looking and searching until he caught Arthur's eye from across the room. Slowly, to some dramatic Adele-esque song, they would meet, proclaim undying love for one another. And then make out like two sexually deprived teenagers instead of second-year uni students.

"And you're sure he isn't dating anyone," Merlin said, interrupting Gwen's ramble mid-stream. His best friend pursed her lips, but refrained from snapping back.

Far ahead, Gwaine sighed. "Yes, Merlin. As a member of his close friends I can safely say that he isn't dating anyone."

Merlin smiled.

_He can still remember the first time he saw Arthur._

_The first day of fall term wasn't anything extraordinary. The sun wasn't miraculously bright and the birds didn't chirp a hopeful tune, foreshadowing what was to come. It was an ordinary Wednesday morning. The brisk breeze curled through the air, mussing with Merlin's hair as he hurried across campus for his first lesson._

_His mother originally berated him when she found out that he was studying Russian (_of all things!)_ for his foreign language, and Merlin would grin and ramble off some excuse or another. People usually wouldn't know how to react when he would explain his fascination with Russian history or undying love for Russian writers like Dostoevsky or Pushkin or Chekov. It wasn't… the norm growing up in a small council estate near Manchester, but Merlin wasn't really normal. By the time his second year rolled around, it only fit that someone who was specializing in History, with an emphasis on Russian, should take Russian as a foreign language._

_But even armed with an English-Russian dictionary, he was beginning to regret his decision. He walked up the steps of Old Main, and let himself into a conference-room style classroom, ten or so people spread around the table. Picking a seat next to a small brunette, who would later introduce herself as Freya, he busied himself by flipping through his course book._

_Over the next ten minutes people matriculated and situated themselves around the table. Then He came in. The blonde hair, slightly wind-blown, rosy-cheeked, bright blue eyes set off by a fitted white button-up, Merlin took all of it in. He felt slightly dazed and dazzled. _

_Then again, nothing would change in the upcoming months. Even after Arthur was a complete prat in class, like after the first test when he demanded to know who got the highest score, then tracking Merlin after class and demanding him to tutor him, Merlin was always breathless when it came to Arthur._

"Sweetie…" Gwen faded off.

Merlin stopped and faced his friend. Even through the cloud in his head, he could hear the worry in her voice. "Gwen, don't worry. Everything will be fine, just like you said. It's a magnificent idea."

Gwen just bit her lip and cast a glance at their friends ahead. "I know what I said. But I just wonder…"

"Wonder what?"

"I don't mean to be the grim reaper or the soccer mom, but have you really thought about this? Like _really _thought about this? I know you're drunk—"

" 'm not drunk."

"Okay, whatever. I just don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Just because it didn't work out with you and Lance doesn't mean that we're all doomed to be forever alone." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. It was true, but Merlin could see the tears beginning to pool in her eyes before she turned away. With a slight side-step she detached herself from him, and wrapped her arms around her body.

Merlin almost missed her murmur, "You really can be an arse sometimes."

"_How can anyone actually speak this language?" Arthur complained. He stretched back, his red sweater inching up, revealing an expanse of golden abdominal muscles that were tickled with golden hair. Merlin couldn't help but watch, his pants growing tighter and tighter. The rest of the library, however, missed this display. _

"_Seriously. Cyrillic alphabet? What gives?" Arthur continued._

_Merlin snorted. "Imagine what they say about English-speaking people."_

"_Don't you think that it'd be easier if everyone spoke English?"_

_It was the same argument that they had every single time they studied together. As the course progressed and slowly got more difficult, Arthur got more and more frustrated because it did not resemble English in the slightest. Merlin wasn't complaining, though, because the more Arthur got frustrated, the more help he needed from Merlin._

"_I think you're a prat for thinking everyone should speak English." Arthur cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. But Merlin kept going. "москва не сразу строилась—Moscow wasn't built in a day and you can't instantaneously learn Russian. Yeah, it's hard as fuck sometimes, but usually the best things take the most work."_

_For a while Arthur just stared at him. "I think you're mad. Brilliant and fantastic, but mostly mad."_

_Merlin began to flush under Arthur's gaze, _brilliant_ playing over and over in his head. His phone vibrated in his pocket._

_Gwen: Lance's relationship status just changed on Facebook._

_He quickly tapped out a reply: oh god, what is it?_

_Gwen: In a relationship with Mithian Chambers._

"_Listen, Arthur. I've got to go. My friend is freaking out." He began to shove all of his books into his bag. "Do you want to meet tomorrow to study some more?"_

"_How about we meet at Albion Café?" Arthur suggested. "I think the library is making me crazy."_

_He stopped for a second, momentarily thrown off. Collecting himself, he responded, "Yeah. Sounds good. See you tomorrow mate."_

"Gwen, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean it."

However, Gwen didn't say anything. A pregnant pause fell. "Hey, I'm going to head back to the flat. I'm not really in the mood to go out tonight anymore."

"Please, don't. I'm sorry…"

"No, it wasn't you. I…I just can't go out tonight. I thought I could, but I guess not." She ran up to Gwaine, pulling him close. Gwaine nodded, hugged Gwen, and marched Merlin across towards the street.

The Rising Sun stood prominently amidst the block of other buildings, the flashing yellow lights enticing others to come in and stay a while. Merlin and his friends disappeared amongst the other club-goers in a whirlwind of bright colors, glitter, and high heels. It was all elbows and shoving until they emerged in the dark club, lit by twinkling pink and golden lights on the walls. The light cast a hazy glow, broken by a giant spotlight swimming across the club, landing some places and not others. Merlin felt disoriented, drunk once more by the pounding music and the press of body on body.

Elena grabbed his hand, leading him into the throes of the dance floor. She wrapped her arms around his neck, grinding her slight body onto his thigh. Men looked away from their dates to watch Elena, for once not clumsy, but flowing and ethereal. A tall man with a strawberry blonde curls plastered to his forehead came up behind her, pressing into her arse. She detached herself from Merlin to plant herself on this stranger.

Merlin looked around, listening to the pulling in his stomach that told him that Arthur was here. And then he saw him, leaning casually against the bar, talking to a blonde in a tight black dress. Arthur would throw his head back and laugh, and then pull the girl close, moving their bodies in time to the music. The part of his brain that told him that Arthur was gay was slowly being silenced.

He watched as they kissed, as her hands roamed his back, as his grasped her breasts. Merlin stood there as the girl lead Arthur to the toilet. Arthur didn't catch his eye. He didn't run over, there wasn't a proclamation of love or a slow motion kiss.

There was nothing.

Merlin didn't even bother to tell Gwaine that he was leaving. He just put on his coat and left.

When he got outside and was a decent block or two away from the club, he allowed himself to break. With hands shaking, he quickly got out his phone and hit speed dial number four.

"Hello?"

Merlin couldn't contain the sob that escaped. "G-Gwen?"

"Oh Merlin."

And there, on the corner of Fifth and Washington, Merlin sank to the pavement and broke.


End file.
